The Goodies with "BLOWING OFF" as reviewed by your distasteful DJ's Nicholarse Fartsounds (AKA Brett Allender) and Mrs. Oh-Deary Fartsnoise, of the Keep Filth On Television Campaign (AKA Alison Bean). Last month's hosts Jimmy Babble and Empress Caligula were just leaving the studio when they were ambushed by the Lone Scout and his sidekick, who were brandishing Nicholas Parsons masks, and they are now undergoing emergency hair replacement (along with some very annoyed fish!)

WHERE? WHEN?

On their '70's "Nothing To Do With Us" album and as a single (with Elizabeth Rules-UK on the flip side), but not on their 1997 CD.

WHAT?

Lyrics: sung by Graeme

Blowing off, it's a gas, blowing off, it's a trip

It's a sin to let it in, so let it rip

Some folk like to hiccup, some folk like to cough

But me, [fart], I blow off

My birth brought tears to my mother's eyes

'Coz I was a wee bit oversize

You know, what goes in ain't nothing to what comes out

And though Momma strained and pushed and squeezed

I simply could not be released

The whole thing looked like an all-in wrestling bout

Well the midwife tugged and the nurses cheered

And on the eighteenth day my head appeared

She said "Hold it right there, I'll go and get a rope"

Well I must have heard that 'coz my baby rump

Flexed and blew a mighty trump

And [fart], I shot out like a piece of soap

Yeah, jet-propelled, I left the womb

And farted around like a burst balloon

'Til the doctor caught me and popped a cork up my derriere

When he dangled me down I let one fly

And shot that doc right between the eyes

Instead of crying, I sang out then and there

Blowing off, it's a gas, blowing off, it's a trip

It's a sin to let it in, so let it rip [fart]

Some folk like to hiccup, some folk like to cough

But me, [fart], I blow off

Well I blew off on my mother's knee

And I pooped my way to pooberty

And all through school, I just kept letting 'em go [fart]

I could blow off wet, I could blow off dry

I could blow off low, I could blow off high

I could blow off silent so you'd never know

And my mother said "Son, it would make sense

To capitalise on your flatulence

Now maybe you could join a band and make us rich"

So I tightened my cheeks and I bent my knees

And found I could fart in several keys

And what do you know … [fart] … I had perfect pitch!

Well I soon developed a nice round tone

A bit like a tuba or a bass trombone

I got amplified and I widened my repertoire

And with a ton of sprouts and a barrel of beans

I cracked off down to New Orleans

And lordy lordy, I became a star

Blowing off … [INSTRUMENTAL BREAK and farting]

Blowing off, it's a gas, blowing off, it's a trip

It's a sin to let it in, so … LET IT RIP! [fart]

Some folk like to hiccup, some folk like to cough

But me, [fart], I blow off

[extended farting]

Nicholarse: Normally a shy and modest loony scientist, Graeme the methane man finally blows his own trumpet (in several keys with perfect pitch too) about how a ton of sprouts and a barrel of beans made him a jazz star in New Orleans, as fart-fetched as that may sound. Presumably he'd be a shooting star if anyone in the audience lit a match, especially with his positive stinking...er, thinking in the choruses. His mother's cravings for onions, cabbage and baked beans all washed down with copious prune juice while expecting her baby boy sure backfired in a big way as he cut the cheese before the Doc was able to cut his cord in a first-up bugle-bum performance that even "Fluff" Freeman thought was "parp excellence"!

Oh-Deary: Graeme shows his true coprophilic colours (presumably brown), in this autobiographical tune. Apparently his birth brought tears to his mother's eyes, for after 18 days of pushing, she ended up giving birth to, as Ben Elton might say, a farty. Little Graeme apparently caused a right stink as he shot around the delivery room, like a burst balloon and not even a cork up the derriere could keep him down. As his life went on, Graeme grew from blowing off on his mother's knee to pooping his way to pooberty, until, eventually, his mother suggested that he join a band and make her rich. And so Graeme cracked off down to New Orleans, playing with the jazz saxophonists on his in-built trumpet. Reportedly he has breezed through every performance ever since.

WHY?

Nicholarse:

This is Graeme's ode to those odourous souls.

Who imitate brass bands through their arseholes.

Their tight cheeks and loose lips are in perfect tune.

But their gasping audience quickly clears the room!

Unless inspired by artists such as The Drifters (or Australian group Georgie Onion and the Windbreakers!), it must have been the after-effect of Tim's pong-packed performance as an advertising man in "It Might As Well Be String" that drove Graeme to sing the praises of his warbling woofa valve. Then again, Bob Dylan tells us that "The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind", but waft would he know about it?! Some pop pickers might find this song 'on the nose' (and as for 'nose pickers'...well, who knows whose nose!?) but you can't hold a candle to it (for fear of explosion!) and it's sure to appeal to toilet humourists, especially the lingering fanfare of flatulence at the finish!

Oh-Deary:

"It's a sin to hold it in", says Graeme

And with his fart power, he can slay 'em.

So he chose, in this delightful song,

To purge his mind and drop the bomb.

And that's it in a nutshell; this song was Graeme admitting his emitting and considering this song's popularity amongst filthy minded undergraduates*, it was a jolly good idea to release it (pun intended). And why not? Everyone loves a good fart gag, right? To quote Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody "Any way the wind blows" or Shakespeare's King Lear "Blow wind and crack your cheeks". However we can only hope that Graeme has not done a Princess Diana and lived his life like a candle in the wind - not with his frequent eruptions in the downstairs department. Now that really would be Blowing Off!